


The Ocean That I Found

by jpo2107



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: International Art Thief AU, M/M, nsfw for later part of fic, wilhelm has cats aka the real MVP's of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:50:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12906456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jpo2107/pseuds/jpo2107
Summary: It was never supposed to come to this; the Somerset cartel hires only the best, and Timothy Lawrence is the best art thief around-- only it looks like Interpol Agent Wilhelm Sauer might be the tiniest bit better. Now Timothy faces a choice - a lifetime in jail, or a commuted sentence if he turns on the cartel and helps bring in his boss.The only catch is - he has to work with the agent who brought him in.Wilhelm did not see this coming; but when has that ever been true about Timothy Lawrence? The thief is slippery, can't be trusted. Shouldn't be trusted. They'll work together, bring in Somerset, and that'll be the end of it.That's the plan, anyway.





	The Ocean That I Found

**Author's Note:**

> artwork provided by Angry Peacock at http://handsomepeacock.tumblr.com/
> 
> Please visit their tumblr because their artwork is really amazing and vibrant and I'm so happy with what they created for this fic!
> 
> Thank you to @an-irritatingly-large-orange-cat for doing being a great beta reader/editor! Really appreciate all your suggestions and comments.
> 
> A big thank you to @thirtysixsavefiles for helping me get unstuck the numerous times over the summer/September, and not letting me quit when I wanted to.

 

 

**Wilhelm:**

~

“You’ve been watching that security video for two hours, Wilhelm.”

Wilhelm shifts in his seat, hits rewind on the keyboard in front of him and starts the tape over again. Athena sighs. Loudly. He hears the loud scrape of the chair next to him on the linoleum as Athena sits down and presses the pause button.

“We’ve been over this tape,” Athena says evenly, measured. “There’s nothing to nail this theft on Lawrence.”

“He’s in the crowd,” Wilhelm points out, this argument that they’ve had for the last two hours seemingly on loop. He un-pauses the tape and points to the grainy feed in front of him.

“And two minutes later, the security feed fizzles out and there’s static for the next thirty minutes. Think about that, Wilhelm. You’re watching static.” Athena gives him one of her patent unimpressed stares. “That’s bordering on pathetic.”

“We could have missed something,” Wilhelm insists, although its half-hearted at this point. He knows Athena’s right. She usually is. But for once Wilhelm just wanted to catch a damn break and nab Timothy Lawrence once and for all and never think about him again.

Athena rubs her eyes before standing up. She pats Wilhelm on the shoulder in what Wilhelm assumes is supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Athena has never been really good at that.

“Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow, hm?” she suggests in a tone that really doesn’t invite any argument, and Wilhelm knows better to start. “You should come over for dinner tonight. Janey would love to see you again.”

“I don’t wanna impose on you and Janey,” Wilhelm replies, rolling his shoulders and stretching. He rubs the week old stubble on his chin, absent-mindedly reminding himself to shave when he gets home.

“It’s not imposing on anyone. I wouldn’t have invited you over otherwise.” Athena lets one of her rare smiles show. She gestures back to the security feed and says, “Put this stuff away and we’ll get back at it tomorrow, bright and early.”

“Ok, Athena,” Wilhelm agrees, finally standing up. His button-up shirt and slacks are a wrinkled disaster from sitting for so long. “Bright and early.”

 

  
 

~

As soon as Wilhelm closes the door to his house after returning from Athena and Janey’s, his cats immediately voice their displeasure of having to wait until later to be fed.

“Jesus, you two,” Wilhelm mutters as he toes off his shoes at the front of the hallway. Wolf weaves himself between Wilhelm’s legs, mewling pitifully, while Saint stares down at him from her perch on the stairs. He scratches behind Wolf’s ears and is rewarded with loud purring but the insistent meowing doesn’t stop. Wolf is right on his heels as Wilhelm refills their water bowls and dishes out their dinner. Once the food is placed on the ground, the silence returns to his apartment, save for the soft chewing noises.

Wilhelm takes this reprieve to haul himself into the shower upstairs and stand under the hot spray of water for thirty minutes. His shoulders ache. His head hurts. He absent-mindedly rubs soap over his body as he tries to replay the security tape from Musée d'Orsay in his head. He _knew_ that Timothy Lawrence had been responsible for the robbery of the _Cristofle et Cie_ earlier this week. Just like he _knew_ in his gut that Lawrence had been responsible for the theft of the _Coronation Girdle,_ which Wilhelm had initially been in disbelief about why someone would steal a girdle of all things, until he saw the photos provided by the distressed Royal Collection Trust employee. That girdle was apparently worth a lot of money.

The thefts were spread out, seemingly without motive or reasons, but there was always one constant that Wilhelm picked up on, although his superiors ruled it out as as a coincidence, mostly because there was never any hard evidence to convince them, no matter how hard Wilhelm pressed the matter.

Timothy Lawrence was _always_ at the museums when something valuable went missing.

Wilhelm has gone through hours and hours of security tapes since being assigned to this case, and he can always make out that grainy image of Lawrence weaving in and out of the tourist crowds, completely at ease. One time, Wilhelm had been positive that Lawrence had looked up at one of the security camera, dipped his sunglasses a fraction down his nose, and _winked_.

Athena had told Wilhelm that he was seeing things and that he needed to take a break. Wilhelm _knew,_ though.

That cocky bastard had winked.

Wilhelm is jerked out of his thoughts by the shower water turning cold and he sighs to himself, slowly turning the taps off. He grabs his towel and slings it around his waist and then quickly rubs the rest of his body down with a second towel. He can see one of Wolf’s paws reaching under the crack of the door and Wilhelm sighs again, though this time with a fond smile on his face. He quickly dries his hair on one of the towels in the bathroom, the strands sticking to the back of his neck, finally freed from their usual ponytail. He takes a quick look in the mirror, too tired to shave - _Tomorrow,_ he thinks to himself, _definitely tomorrow_ \- instead running a hand over the sides of his head, lamenting the fact that he also needs to get his sides trimmed too. Wolf interrupts Wilhelm’s despair over his unkempt appearance but yowling loudly outside the door and Wilhelm rolls his eyes at the continued antics of his cat.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, you needy little jerk.”

Wilhelm knows that he needs to catch Lawrence in the act of stealing from one of the many museums nearby for his theory to have any sort of sway with the upper brass in Interpol. He’s a good agent with a stellar record, but no one is going to give Wilhelm the manpower he needs to plan a major operation if he’s just going on his gut feeling. He has a lot more work to do. Wilhelm knows that he can count on Athena backing him up, and maybe Axton if it came down to it, but otherwise no one would touch his theory with a ten foot pole.

Wilhelm feels the beginnings of a plan formulating in his head as he gets ready for bed, Wolf and Saint curled up on their respective sides of the mattress.

It’s a good plan, Wilhelm thinks to himself as his eyelids start to get heavy. He just needs to sell it to Athena, and see how it goes from there.

~

**Wilhelm:**

Athena had protested when Wilhelm had told her that they were going to do an undercover stakeout at The Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées for the _Chefs-d'œuvre de la céramique coréenne_ exhibit. Wilhelm doesn’t have any proof to back it up other than his hunch, but he _knows_ Timothy Lawrence will be at this exhibit. Their division’s director, Aurelia Hammerlock, hadn’t been completely convinced by Wilhelm either, but she allowed the operation to go forth, but if there were no clear results or capture of Lawrence, Wilhelm knew his ass was on the line.

Wilhelm’s in the security office with the museum’s security force, pacing back and forth in front of the surveillance feeds, trying to find Lawrence in the grainy footage. He spots Athena in one of the feeds, and Axton in another. No sign of Lawrence yet. But Wilhelm knew that the allure of the _Chefs-d'œuvre de la céramique coréenne_ exhibit would be too big of a draw for someone like him.

Wilhelm’s earpiece crackles to life and Athena’s voice unimpressed voice filters through.

“He’s not here.”

“Athena, we haven’t even been here for an hour,” Wilhelm huffs in annoyance.

“He’s not here,” Athena repeats.

Axton’s voice joins the conversation, “Yeah, sorry big guy. I’m not seeing him on this end either.”

Wilhelm rolls his eyes. “It’s a big museum, you two. Take a _walk_.”

“Yeesh, _touchy,”_ Axton says. Athena scoffs in agreement.

“Get back to me if you see anything interesting,” Wilhelm says shortly, and takes his earpiece out of his ear. He realizes that he’s being short-tempered, but he’s also getting awfully annoyed at the constant doubts being thrown at him from his colleagues and higher-ups.

“Excuse me, sir?” A soft voice behind Wilhelm speaks. He turns to see a small, young security guard staring somewhat nervously up at him.

“Yeah?”

“The camera in the _céramique coréenne_ exhibit room has gone out. Must be a technical issue-- the IT department is working on re-establishing--”

Wilhelm doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence-- he’s already out of the security office, heading towards the exhibition hall. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t want to alarm the few patrons milling around the museum, but his pace is brisk and he makes his way to the exhibition room that’s security feed mysteriously flickered out. The lights are dimmed in the room and at first glance, there’s no one there. It’s quiet.

Almost too quiet. There should be crowds milling around-- this is a highly anticipated exhibit, after all. Wilhelm slows his pace, keeping to the lowlights of the corridors to mask his movement. He doesn’t want to spook Lawrence and ruin his one chance of finally proving his theories right.

Wilhelm peers around the corner and notices a slight movement to the right of him. Dressed all in black, carefully lifting the unsecured glass container off of one of the priceless artifacts, is Timothy Lawrence.

Wilhelm’s hunch was right. There he is, red-handed. A surge of relief and a small sense of smugness runs through Wilhelm, but he shakes himself out of that mindset quickly. There’ll be time to feel pride about this later, he tells himself. Right now, he just needs to get closer.

Wilhelm has only ever seen grainy videotape footage of Timothy Lawrence, so he’s a little taken aback at how young he looks, thin and lithe, with striking features and a mess of styled brown hair. He’s definitely attractive, but Wilhelm shuts that line of thinking down immediately. He’s here for a reason, and this is no time to be getting distracted.

Wilhelm isn’t directly in Tim’s line of sight, so he’s able to maneuver around behind the room’s pillars and displays, as Tim is clearly concentrating on getting the artifacts as quickly as possible.

Which makes it that much easier for Wilhelm to get the drop on Lawrence, moving silently behind him until he’s only a few inches away.

“Get up,” Wilhelm says, gun out and pointed at the back of Tim’s head. “Slowly.”

Tim freezes at the sound of Wilhelm’s voice, turning his head slightly. He lets out a sigh and complies. He even puts his hands at the back of his head.

“Wow,” Tim says, more to himself than to Wilhelm, “for someone so big, you sure don’t make a lot of noise.”

Wilhelm holsters his gun and pulls Tim’s hands down behind his back. Tim lets out a breathy laugh of disbelief, like he can’t believe he’s finally been caught.

“Do you think this is funny, Lawrence?” Wilhelm asks as he gruffly pushes Tim face first against the column, grasping his wrists tightly as Wilhelm fishes the handcuffs out of his jacket pocket.

The smug asshole is actually grinning as he turns his head to the side, trying to make eye contact with Wilhelm. “Well, I mean, funny is a pretty subjective thing, you know--”

“Be quiet,” Wilhelm says as he snaps the cuffs around Tim's wrists, turning him around. Wilhelm reaches for his radio to alert Athena that he's finally caught up to Lawrence, and for her to bring the car around.

Wilhelm hasn't felt this satisfied in a long time, which might explain why he has a momentary lapse of judgement, and turns away from his prisoner.

“Athena?” The radio gives a loud crackle before Athena's voice carries over.

“Yeah?”

“I got him. Get your butt over here.”

“Who are you talking about?” Athena asks, seemingly uninterested.

Wilhelm huffs irritably. “The _Pope_. Who do you think, Athena?”

“The Pope would be more believable, to be honest.”

“Are you on your way over or not?”

There's silence, save for the crackle of static, but Wilhelm is positive he can hear the slight smile on her face as she replies, “Affirmative. ETA three minutes.”

“Three minutes, huh?” Tim's voice jerks Wilhelm's attention to back him. “That's plenty of time.”

Wilhelm doesn't like the look on Tim's face but doesn't get the chance to inquire what the hell he's talking about because, in a blur of lightning-fast motion, Tim sticks something against Wilhelm's side and all Wilhelm can think about is the pain.

He hits the floor like a ton of bricks, the pain blooming from his side up his arm. Tim looms over him, an almost curious look on his face as he wave the small, portable taser in his hand and the unlocked handcuffs in the other.

Wilhelm grits his teeth and tries to ride out the pain as Tim gently presses his left foot down on Wilhelm's chest.

“Sorry, big guy.” Tim doesn't sound sorry at all as he leans down, apply pressure onto Wilhelm's chest as he drops the handcuffs next to Wilhelm's head. “Probably didn't realize I'm pretty… _skilled_ at getting myself out of sticky situations.” He winks and slowly grins as he moves his foot dangerously close to Wilhelm's dick. Wilhelm is still in a lot of pain, but he's also really aware of how close Tim's foot is and how much his body is betraying him right now.

“Maybe next time we can finish what we started. Not today, though.” He looks up at the sound of distant footsteps, and blows a condescending kiss at Wilhelm.

“Gotta go.”

Tim is suddenly gone from Wilhelm's quickly fading sight and dimly he can hear Athena's voice, far off, as he finally succumbs to darkness. 

~

It feels like Wilhelm has been unconscious for years when he finally wakes up. He doesn’t immediately recognize his surroundings and tries to sit up, but groans in pain at the dull ache in his side and in his head.

“Easy, pal.” Athena’s voice floats up from the haze in his head, and he blinks until his vision clears and he sees her sitting on a chair next to him.

“Where am I?” he asks, his tongue rough as sandpaper.

“At the office. In the break room.”

Wilhelm grunts as he tries to sit up again. Athena steadies him until he’s comfortably sitting upright. She usually has a very neutral expression on her face at all times, but Wilhelm sees the slight curve around her mouth.

“Why are you so happy?” he grumbles. “I fucked up. Did you get my job, is that why you’re smiling?”

Athena snorts, leaning back in her chair. “You didn’t get fired, don’t worry.”

“So what’s there to smile about, I let Lawrence trick me and he got away.” Just saying the words aloud bring a horrible taste to Wilhelm’s mouth, and he grimaces.

“Yes, well...it’s lucky you have a partner like me,” Athena replies, looking almost smug.

“Athena?”

“We nabbed him as he was rushing to escape, me and Axton got the drop on him. It was pretty great, not going to lie. The expression on Lawrence’s face was _priceless_.” Athena lets out a chuckle. “It was almost as good as the one on your face right now.”

Wilhelm is silent for a few minutes, processing this.

“Athena, I could kiss you right now.”

“Better not,” she says in mock warning. Wilhelm laughs.

“So where is he?”

“He’s in the interrogation room with Axton. Figured we’d let Axton warm him up before you’re feeling up to talking to him.”

Wilhelm sighs. “Are you sure I can even handle that? Seems like I have nothing but bad luck when it comes to Lawrence.”

Athena crosses her arms over her chest and gives Wilhelm one of her patent stares. She looks at him in silence for a long stretch of time.

“Are you done having a pity party for yourself?” she asks, finally blinking.

“Are you done staring at me like that?” Wilhelm retorts.

“Wil, it could have happened to anyone. Don’t let it drag you down. You’re one of our most competent agents, and the only partner I’ve ever had the patience for.”

“High praise,” Wilhelm says dryly.

“So dust yourself off and let’s nail this guy to the fucking wall, okay?”

“Okay.” Wilhelm gets up from the couch with a little help from Athena. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Don’t let it get around,” she teases, smacking Wilhelm on the shoulder as they leave the break room towards the elevators.

Axton is leaning against the interrogation room door when Wilhelm and Athena finally arrive off the elevators. He raises his hand in greeting.

“Hey big guy, how’re you feeling?”

“I’m _fine_ , Axton. I’ll be better once this prick is carted off to jail,” Wilhelm says, rolling up his shirt sleeves to his elbow. “You talk to him yet?”

Axton shakes his head. “Nope. Hammerlock beat me to it.”

Both Wilhelm and Athena rear back slightly in surprise. “Hammerlock?” Athena repeats in disbelief. “What’s she doing in there?”

Axton shrugs. “Dunno. She booted me out of there pretty quickly.” He leans in conspiratorially towards Wilhelm and Athena. “Think she’s probably making a deal or something.”

Before Wilhelm can even wrap his mind around that, the door of the interrogation room swings open, and Aurelia Hammerlock strides out, closing the door behind her.

“Agents,” she says in greeting. She looks directly at Wilhelm. “Agent Sauer. Can I speak to you in private?” Athena and Axton quickly make themselves scarce, further down the hall.

Wilhelm waits for Director Hammerlock to speak. She seems to be appraising him, in an almost detached clinical way. After a few moments, she finally speaks.

“Well done,” she says, clasping her hands behind her back. “I’ll admit, I thought this little operation was set to fail and that I’d be signing your transfer papers from field agent to desk agent.”

This is not how Wilhelm expected this conversation to start but he’s honestly not that surprised; Hammerlock is not known for giving out empty praise at the best of times.

“However,” Director Hammerlock continues, “there’s been a change in plans.”

“What change?” Wilhelm asks, confused. “I caught him, _red-handed_. Literally in the middle of stealing a priceless artifact from The Grand Palais. I know it wasn’t caught on the security feed but that’s due to Lawrence---”

“Agent.” Hammerlock’s soft voice cuts quickly through his angry defense. “May I continue?” She doesn’t give him time to respond before she says, “Timothy Lawrence will be, instead of being brought to trial and prosecuted to the full extent of the law, working with our department.” She pauses, as if carefully choosing her words. “As a sort of consultant, you might say.”

Wilhelm doesn’t know how to react to this information. Well, react in a way that won’t get him immediately fired. And even when his emotions are running hot, Wilhelm prides himself on his professionalism.

Hammerlock must see the anger in his eyes and she smiles sardonically. “Mr. Lawrence will be working with your department.”

“What,” Wilhelm says, flatly. This _has_ to be a joke.

“Your department has been assigned tracking the Somerset Crime Family, has it not?”

Wilhelm nods, not quite understanding the connection. It dawns on him what’s happening a few moments later.

“He has information on Somerset?” he asks, in disbelief.

“Lawrence has been, for quite some time, a fence and runner for them. He has access to all sorts of information that would otherwise require a deep undercover agent, for which we don’t have the time or the agents to spare.”

“This is a mistake,” Wilhelm says, his anger barely concealed through gritted teeth.

“I respectfully disagree, Agent Sauer. You will be working with him.” She gestures behind herself to the door. “Go on and meet your new co-worker.” She leaves Wilhelm without another word, standing and staring at the door.

Athena and Axton join him soon after Hammerlock leaves the floor. They both have confused looks on their faces, clearly wanting to know what just happened, but Wilhelm shakes his head at them. He goes into the interrogation room, where Timothy Lawrence is waiting for him, feet up on the table, not a care in the world. He looks up at the sound of the door slamming shut, and smiles winningly at Wilhelm, as if they’re best friends.

“Hey there, pal!” Tim says.

Wilhelm responds by knocking Tim’s feet off the table, almost knocking Tim on the ground in the process. Tim quickly rights himself on the chair, looking up at Wilhelm in mock indignation.

“This isn’t the way I wanted this to start out,” Tim replies, sighing.

“How the hell did you pull this deal out of your ass?” Wilhelm demands, leaning his hands on the table, looming across from Timothy.

“More like, my lawyer pulled this deal out of _his_ ass,” Tim retorts, blinking up at Wilhelm. His smile never wavers. “Your boss tells me you haven’t had much luck with the Somerset thing. I’d be more than happy to lend my expertise, show you folks how it’s done.”

“What could you possibly know--”

“You’d be surprised.” Tim cuts Wilhelm off, his smile faltering a little.

Wilhelm glares at Tim. Tim stares back at him. Neither of them move for a few minutes. Tim finally breaks the silence.

“So, are you going to show me where I’m staying or what?”

~

Axton ends up accompanying Wilhelm as he takes Tim to one of the Interpol safehouse apartments by the office building. Wilhelm has a sneaking suspicions that Athena made Axton come with, just to make sure Wilhelm doesn’t end up murdering Tim during the short jaunt to the apartment.

Not that Wilhelm would ever lose his cool like that, but it’s likely just smart planning on Athena’s part. What’s grating on his nerves right now, though, is how buddy-buddy Axton and Tim are already, chatting and cracking wise like they’re old friends, and not that Tim is a criminal that has be foisted upon Wilhelm’s life like a bad curse.

Axton’s telling Tim some story involving his wife Ellie and their herd of dogs and Tim is arguing that while dogs are great and all, cats are clearly the superior animal and if Wilhelm has to hear anymore of this conversation, his head is going to implode.

Never mind that Tim _is_ right, and cats are the superior pets.

They finally arrive at the apartment building, grey brick and mostly non-descript. Wilhelm looks behind him to see Tim’s face scrunched up in mild disgust. Wilhelm smiles at him.

“Home sweet home,” he says, pushing the front door open. “Come on in.”

“I don’t understand why I can’t just stay at my own apartment,” Tim huffs, annoyed, but still walks into the building lobby.

“I imagine it’s probably so you won’t try to give us the ol’ slip, darling,” Axton replies easily, as he heads to the lobby elevator. “No offense, but you’re not exactly trustworthy.”

Wilhelm snorts. That’s the understatement of the year, he thinks to himself. Tim turns around to Wilhelm, an annoyed look on his face, his mouth opening as if to give Wilhelm a piece of his mind for even acknowledging Axton’s assessment of him, when the elevator doors ding and open, stopping his tirade before it even begins.

The three of them get on the elevator. Wilhelm presses the button for the fifth floor and the elevator lurches slightly as the door closes and rumbles back to life, pulling them upward.

“So,” Tim says, breaking the silence, “Am I by myself in this apartment or are one of you supposed to be my roomie?”

Axton laughs. “Nope, no roomies.”

“How thoughtful of you.”

“But,” Wilhelm interjects as the elevator halts on the fifth floor and the three of the move out into the hallway, “you’ll be on constant surveillance. And not the shitty surveillance you’d find in museums either. You’ll be either at the Interpol offices or here. Is that understood?”

Tim gives Wilhelm a mocking salute. “Yes, sir.”

Axton shakes his head, holding back laughter. “Probably best not to push the big guy, Tim.”

Wilhelm ignores them both and takes out the keys to apartment 507 and hands them to Tim. Tim opens the apartment door with an exaggerated flourish and steps inside, Axton and Wilhelm behind him.

The apartment is small, but clean. There’s a kitchen, a living room/bedroom, and a bathroom. Wilhelm would definitely classify it as “cozy, but livable.” The look on Tim’s face definitely shows that he does not feel the same way.

“Briefing on the Somerset case starts tomorrow at 8 AM,” Wilhelm says, turning back towards the door to leave. “Be there on time. You don’t want me dragging your ass to the office.”

“God forbid,” Tim replies archly, still taking in his surroundings. Wilhelm rolls his eyes and he and Axton leave.

When they’re back in the elevator, Axton turns to Wilhelm and says, “He’s not as bad as I thought he’d be.”

Wilhelm grimances. “Nah, he’s worse.”

~

**Tim:  
**

Tim’s almost tempted to be late to the briefing, but decides against it. He really doesn’t want that big lug of an agent knocking on his door and dragging him down the street. The agent--- _Wilhelm_ , Tim reminds himself--- wasn’t subtle about his distaste for Tim and how much he didn’t want Tim to be involved in the Somerset operations, but between jail time and working for Interpol temporarily, Tim knows he made the better choice. Doesn’t matter if Wilhelm doesn’t want him there; Tim will be gone soon enough.

Tim’s temporary ID badge lets him through the usual checkpoints in the Interpol building, and he makes his way to the briefing room to find it empty. He looks at the clock at the wall and realizes he’s about twenty minutes early. He rolls his eyes at himself, shoulders sagging slightly. Now he’s got to try and kill some time before the Suits come in and make his life more difficult for the foreseeable future.

“Well, at least I won’t get reamed out by Goliath when he comes in,” Tim mutters to himself as he gets a cup of coffee and makes himself comfortable at the table.

“Feet off the table, Lawrence.” Athena’s voice jolts Tim out of his reverie and he almost falls out of his chair.

“Good morning, Athena,” Tim says, trying to maintain his balance and his pride. Judging by the unimpressed look she’s throwing his way, he’s not succeeding very well.

“Where’s your trusty sidekick?” he asks, smoothing the crease from his shirt.

Athena lets out a small chuckle before her face turns serious again. “He’s down in the basement gym.”

Tim glances up at the clock on the wall and frowns slightly. “Seems a little late for a workout, the briefings going to start shortly, right?”

Athena shrugs as she opens one of the filing cabinets. “He works out when he’s agitated. Which lately, is... a lot.” She gives Tim an inscrutable look. “Why don’t you go grab him so we can get this session started?” She frames it as a question but Tim recognizes an order when he hears one. She gestures to the door behind her and adds, “Elevator’s just outside.”

“Your wish is my command,” he replies sarcastically, getting up from his chair.

Athena doesn’t even look up from the file folder she’s reading. “If that were true, you wouldn’t be here at all.”

Tim doesn’t really have a response to that, so he heads to the elevators and makes his way slowly and creakily down to the basement. The elevator doors seem to take a million years to open, but finally they do and Tim heads around the corner, following the sign directions towards the organization's gym.

Tim is not at all prepared for what awaits him in the small, cramped and frankly smelly excuse for a workout area. He knows, logically, that he’d catch Wilhelm mid-workout.

Wilhelm’s pulling himself up as he does chin-up reps, his biceps flexing and relaxing as he moves up and down. Tim has an amazing view and he’s learned something new about Wilhelm today: Wilhelm doesn’t wear a shirt when he works out. Which could be considered both a blessing and a curse, if Tim’s honest with himself. Wilhelm’s chest is a map of hair, muscles, and scars. Tim’s eyes follow the trail of hair from Wilhelm’s pecs down his stomach, where it disappears into his tiny workout shorts. Tinier shorts than Tim would suspect a man like Wilhelm to wear, honestly.

Tim’s mouth feels really dry all of a sudden.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=wuowo9)

Wilhelm does one last rep before lowering himself back onto the ground. He grabs the towel next to his water bottle and looks over at Tim, annoyance flying across his features.

“Yeah?” Wilhelm says, wiping his face free of sweat.

Tim tries to find his voice. It takes a second.

“Athena’s looking for you,” he finally says. His voice sounds a little hoarse. Probably should get some water, hydration is important. “Briefing’s about to start.”

Wilhelm grunts a reply, slinging the towel over his neck. The towel really brings out the broadness of Wilhelm’s shoulders.

 _Control yourself_ , Tim reprimands himself silently.

“I’ll be up in a few,” Wilhelm finally says, moving towards Tim. He looks down at Tim; his sweaty, muscular chest inches away from Tim’s face. “Do you mind? You’re blocking the exit.”

“Fzght,” Tim replies. Wilhelm raises an eyebrow.

Tim’s body finally catches up with his brain and, embarrassed, he wordlessly moves out of Wilhelm’s way. Wilhelm makes his way towards the gym locker room, and once he’s out of Tim’s sight, Tim leans against the wall, covering his face with his hands.

 _Hoo boy_ , Tim thinks to himself. _This is going just great._

_~_

Tim makes his way back upstairs afterwards, and the briefing room is filled up with more agents this time around. Wilhelm still isn’t there, so Tim makes his way to the seat next to Axton, aware of the other agents’ eyes following him around the room.

“Hey buddy,” Axton says cheerfully. “Looking forward to working with you.”

“Well, at least someone feels that way,” Tim replies with a rueful smile.

Axton chuckles, “Don’t let the big guy get you down. He’s just…” Axton pauses, trying to find the right words, “focused.”

Tim’s mind flashes back to Wilhelm doing chin-ups and thinks to himself, _Yeah, definitely focused._

Tim is saved from having to reply when - speak of the devil - Wilhelm comes into the briefing room, clearly having just showered, his greying hair hanging wetly from it’s short ponytail. His shirt sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, showing off his forearms and Tim can feel himself getting warm in the face. He averts his eyes away from Wilhelm, and concentrates on Axton’s cup of coffee instead.

 _This is fine. Everything is fine._ Tim repeats it to himself like a mantra.

“Okay everyone, pipe down.” Athena’s voice carries over the group. “Let’s get this briefing started.” She’s standing at the front of the room with Wilhelm, obscuring the board behind them that has pictures and documents all related to the Somerset crime family. Athena’s not tall enough to fully block out the picture at the top of the board, the black and white photo of Rhys Somerset, head of the of family. The photo is a bit blurry, clearly taken at a distance, but Tim would know a picture of Rhys from anywhere. He’d worked with Rhys long enough.

Tim swallows, hoping in his heart of hearts that Rhys never catches wind of this, of Tim’s involvement, because as accommodating and friendly as Rhys could be with those he worked with, he never handled betrayal well. For a few moments, Tim wonders if jail time might have been the preferable option, all things considered.

 _Too late for that now_ , he thinks to himself, bemused.

“I’m sure you’ve all noticed a new face in the room,” Athena says, and Tim’s jolted out of his thoughts by the feeling of several pairs of eyes on him. He gives a short wave.

“Timothy Lawrence will be providing us with much needed intel and information on the Somerset family, as well as the head boss, Rhys Somerset. Agent Sauer and I,” Athena gestures to Wilhelm standing beside her, “will be running ops from here and in the field. Anyone with questions or concerns can come speak with us privately. Any and all new information pertaining to Somerset will come directly to us, is that clear?” Her look brokers no argument, and the other agents murmur their agreement.

“You all have your assignments and tasks,” Wilhelm says, arms crossed over his chest. “If there’s any issues or obstacles, come see me.”

The group breaks off, a few agents going up to Wilhelm and Athena, presumably to speak to them about their assignments. Tim stays at the conference table, feeling out of place and awkward. Axton gives him a farewell wave and heads out of the briefing room with another agent, and soon Tim is all alone with Athena and Wilhelm.

Wilhelm sits himself on the edge of the table, resting his hands on his leg. Tim’s eyes are drawn to the fabric of Wilhelm’s shirt straining against his bicep and it’s all very distracting--

“Tim?” Athena’s voice breaks him out of his reverie. “You with us?”

Tim clears his throat and nods, slightly embarrassed. Athena puts a file folder down in front of him, with Rhys’ picture clipped to the front.

“We need you to start talking about Rhys Somerset,” she says. “Any and all details, even if you think it’s mundane or unimportant. Odds are, it won’t be.” Athena crosses her arms. “Everything we’ve found out about the Somerset syndicate won’t hold up in any court---all the businesses that seem like fronts are legitimate businesses. We have no way of getting in there without a proper warrant, and since Mr. Somerset has a practically spotless record, no judge is going to grant us one.”

“Well, Rhys isn’t stupid,” Tim points out. “He’s a very good businessman.”

“Then why do you work for him?” Wilhelm asks. “Why would such a _sterling_ member of the business community hire a thief?”

Tim laughs. “I prefer to call myself a Purveyor of Hard to Reach Items, personally.”

Wilhelm doesn’t look particularly amused. “Answer the question.”

Tim shrugs, as if the answer should be obvious. “Why else would anyone hire a thief? To _steal_ things.”

Athena leans forward. “So you’re stealing these items from the museums for Rhys?”

Tim shakes his head. “Not _for_ him, necessarily. He doesn’t keep them. Not for long.”

Wilhelm gets there first. “He’s selling the items off.”

Tim nods. “Bingo. Score one for the big guy.” Wilhelm scowls.

“There’s a catch though,” Tim adds, almost as an afterthought. “Rhys isn’t selling them for money. He has money. He’s selling for--”

“-- Information,” Wilhelm finishes.

“You’re _not_ as dumb as you look!” Tim says, impressed. Wilhelm clenches his jaw, but doesn’t rise to Tim’s bait. Athena mostly looks bored of the back-and-forth.

“So what kind of information is he looking for?” Athena asks. Tim shrugs, which is apparently the wrong answer, as her eyes narrow suspiciously at him.

“What?” he asks defensively. “Why would Rhys ever tell me that kind of information? I told you, he’s not dumb.” Tim drums his fingers on the table. “There was only ever one person that Rhys ever told that kind of specific information, and that was his accountant.”

Wilhelm raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “His... accountant?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. I was never introduced to him but I heard about him. Pretty much Rhys’ right hand man in all respects.”

Athena looks over at Wilhelm. “Looks like we picked the wrong guy for information.”

“You’re telling me,” Wilhelm says.

Tim tries not to feel insulted.

“Is there anything you _do_ know?” Wilhelm asks. “Contacts? Any special deliveries? Anything that might be useful to this investigation?”

Tim rubs his chin thoughtfully, thinking. “I mean, I was supposed to meet up with one of Rhys’ goons tomorrow with my haul from The Grand Palais. Rhys is probably going to find it a _little_ suspicious if I don’t show up for that.” He says it sarcastically, looking directly at Wilhelm, as though that should be obvious to him.

Athena and Wilhelm share a glance with each other that Tim can’t decipher.

“Well, we can’t let you go to that meeting,” Athena says, and Tim balks, but she hold up her hand to silence him. “Empty-handed. We can’t let you go empty-handed.”

Wilhelm does not look happy. “No _way_.”

Athena shrugs. “If he doesn’t show up at the meeting, that’s gonna be a red flag for Somerset and we’ll be right back to square one. We need him to act like nothing's wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure The Grand Palais isn’t going to just _give_ us exhibition items, Athena.”

“They will with a warrant.” Athena replies. Wilhelm rubs his temple in clear frustration but he relents.

“Fine.” He finally agrees, albeit gruffly. “I’ll go talk to Hammerlock about a warrant. You keep an eye on him.” Without another word, he leaves the conference room.

Tim looks over at Athena, a sarcastic smile on his face. “You know, I really think he’s starting to warm up to me.”

 

**Wilhelm:  
**

Wilhelm is in _hell_.

This entire investigation was frustrating enough _before_ Timothy Lawrence got thrown into his life and now that he’s there, Wilhelm hasn’t had a moment's peace.

Wilhelm had been able to get Hammerlock to secure a warrant for the The Grand Palais for the items that Tim was supposed to have lifted, that fateful night at the museum. The museum administrator had been rightfully upset at the request, but had been somewhat mollified that the items would be equipped with trackers so that the items could be retrieved soon after the meeting with Rhys’s associates was over.

Wilhelm didn’t think highly of the chances of the items being retrieved, if the people in Rhys Somerset’s employ were the calibre that he thought they were, those tracking devices would be found pretty fast and ditched just as quick. Wilhelm had disagreed with the tracking devices, stating that if they were discovered - and he was positive that they would be - Tim’s involvement with Interpol would be in jeopardy, but he had been overruled by Hammerlock and the other directors. Tim seemed to share his gut feeling too, when he’d been handed the items.

“I wouldn’t put too much stock into getting these back,” Tim says as he gets out of the backseat of the car. He leans down to speak through the passenger-side window. “Don’t hang around, I’ll meet you back at the office. It’ll look suspicious if I get into an unmarked black SUV at the end of this meeting.” Tim looks at the car in distaste. “Could this organization be any more of a cliché?”

“If you’re not back at the office in three hours, I’m sending the cavalry to drag you back, cover be damned,” Wilhelm threatens, but Tim just gives him a winning smile and winks at him in response. Wilhelm waits in the car until Tim disappears into the back of the building across the street before driving off.

He spends the next four hours pacing back and forth in the briefing room, waiting for Tim to return.

He’s not worried. He’s _annoyed_.

Athena pokes her head into the briefing room sporadically, but doesn’t offer any commentary. Likely she sees the thunderstorm forming on Wilhelm’s face as he paces back and forth, glancing at the clock every so often.

“You doing okay?” she asks, taking a sip of her coffee.

“I’ll be okay once that--” Wilhelm takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’ll be fine once Tim gets back.” He takes another look at the clock. “Unless he just made his great escape and succeeded in making me look like a jackass.”

Athena leans against the doorframe, watching her partner pace some more. “You think he made off with the goods?”

Wilhelm flexes his fingers, closing them into a fist and then repeating the motion. “I don’t know. Probably? Likely. I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve tailed him.”

“You would have blown his cover and you know it,” Athena points out. “Big, black SUV? Dead giveaway, especially for someone as paranoid and cautious as Somerset.”

Wilhelm sighs. Athena’s words, while somewhat comforting, don’t do much to help the knot in Wilhelm’s stomach. He’s worried that something happened to Tim. What if Somerset had been tipped off earlier that Tim was working with Interpol? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, there’s been moles in organizations like Interpol before. Tim was a major pain in his ass, but that didn’t mean that Wilhelm wanted to put him in a potentially dangerous situation.

“You’re thinking so loudly I’m surprised that anyone can’t hear you from downstairs.” Tim’s voice jerks Wilhelm out of his thoughts, and Wilhelm whips himself around so fast he almost gives himself whiplash. Thankfully, Tim doesn’t look any worse for wear; no apparent injuries, just a little tired.

“What part of _be back here in three hours_ did you not understand?” Wilhelm asks, his tone hiding the fact that Wilhelm had been imagining the worst sort of outcome of this op, the anxiety and confusion at these feelings pulling him in all sorts of unfamiliar directions.

Wilhelm isn’t great at feelings. Any number of his exes could attest to that. It isn’t that he doesn’t _have_ feelings, he just isn’t great at expressing any of them-- aside from irritation. A lot of his partners just got fed up with his emotional constipation, and Wilhelm just concentrated his energy and efforts on his job.

So the fact that this young, freckly-faced, handsome and _extremely_ aggravating man comes barreling into Wilhelm’s life, something he definitely did not ask for, stirring up feelings that Wilhelm did not want, was bound to make him a little on edge.

Tim rolls his eyes in annoyance. “Listen, if I had scampered out of the meeting any faster than I was trying to, that would have put up some major red flags and I’d likely be a red smear on the ground right about now.” He places some papers on the conference table. “A thank you wouldn’t hurt, you know.”

Wilhelm grabs the papers and quickly skims them. It’s mostly written in some illegible code but Tim has helpfully provided a translation at the bottom of the page.

_Musée des Arts et Métiers. Leon Foucault's Pendulum Sphere. Drop-off at Hardware Société three days after @ 11am._

“So, Somerset doesn’t suspect anything?” Wilhelm asks, relief flooding through him.

“Why should he?” Tim asks as he makes his way to the coffee machine. “I gave Rhys the items he requested, as usual. Nothing’s out of place. Everything’s fine.” He turns his back to Wilhelm as the coffee machine gurgles to life, filling up his cup. “You can stand down, big guy.”

Wilhelm ignores him. “Did Somerset say anything about who the buyer is? Or what the information he’s trading it for? Anything _useful_?”

Tim lets out a long suffering sigh as he adds cream to his coffee, sharing a look with Athena that Wilhelm also chooses to ignore. Athena is hard to charm and even harder to befriend, so it rankles Wilhelm a little that Tim seems to have settled into a friendly repertoire with her so quickly.

“Does he ever think of anything besides work?” he asks Athena, as if Wilhelm’s not standing right there.

Athena shakes her head with a small grin. “Nope.”

“Can you two put a lid on it?” Wilhelm grumbles as he puts Tim’s papers into the file folder. “And answer my question, if you don’t mind.”

“Rhys didn’t say much,” Tim admits, taking a big sip of his coffee. “He never really does. All he mentioned that it was a rare item that his contact wants and is willing to part with something huge that Rhys has been waiting for a long time to get his hands on. I didn’t ask what that was though.” He raises his right hand in defense at the outraged look on Wilhelm’s face. “Listen, Wil. Asking too many questions around Rhys is a one way ticket to getting acquainted with the bottom of the Seine.” He shrugs his shoulders. “He’ll tell me more once I get the item for him.”

Athena rubs her temple. “I have a feeling we’re not likely to get permission to get another museum to let go of another artifact.”

Tim shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. “Well, I can always go in and do it my way, if that saves you any trouble.”

“No,” Wilhelm says, flatly.

“Okay, well, let me know when you’ve figured out Plan B.” Tim drains the last of his coffee and washes his mug out in the sink. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a dinner to get to.” He smiles at the annoyed look Wilhelm shoots him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before curfew.”

Before Wilhelm can respond, Tim saunters out of the conference room and down the hall. He shares a glance at Athena, who raises her eyebrows in response and he stalks out of the conference room back to his own office.

This whole assignment is a literal nightmare. Wilhelm wonders what he did to deserve this.

He also wonders who Tim’s meeting for dinner, but dismisses it from the front of his mind. Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t linger in the back, however.

~

It’s Axton that comes up with Plan B, surprisingly enough.

“What?” he’d said in mock indignation, when both Athena and Wilhelm had expressed surprise at how good the suggestion was. “I’m more than just a pretty face, you know.”

Axton has contacts in the underground black market. Contacts that were also informants, and gave Axton information to get the law out of their hair and their businesses. A few of these contacts were, in face, forgers. They were able to duplicate practically anything that would fool the most inscrutable person. Axton knew one who specialized in art forgeries, and would be more than willing, (for a good price, Axton stressed), to recreate the Pendulum Sphere. Athena would contact the administrators at the _Musée des Arts et Métiers_ to release a fake news story that the Sphere had been stolen, to cover their bases. Wilhelm had to admit, it sounded like a really good plan.

Axton has left to go meet this contact to go over the details and specifics, and Athena is on her way to meet with the administrators at the museum, which left Wilhelm with the unenviable task of completing the operations paperwork and submitting it to Hammerlock’s assistant. He is just about to put forward the paperwork into the database when a loud, incessant knocking makes him look up from his computer screen.

It’s one of the department’s rookie agents, whose name Wilhelm can't remember for the life of him-- though he vaguely recalls some of the other agents calling him Pickles. But Wilhelm’s pretty sure that it isn’t really work appropriate for him to call this rookie that nickname.

“Yeah?” Wilhelm asks, leaning back in his chair.

“Agent Sauer, sir?” The kid sounds nervous, his thick Australian accent shaking slightly. “I was told to come get you immediately.”

Wilhelm gets up from his chair and follows the rookie out of his office and down the hall to the elevators.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his stomach sinking slightly. He hasn’t even submitted the paperwork, there’s no way Hammerlock could have called a halt to the op _already_.

“Mordecai-- I mean, Agent Calles,” Pickles corrects himself in a rush. “He ordered me to come get you. Said it was an emergency. Directly related to your op. Something about Lawrence?”

Shit, Wilhelm thinks to himself.

The elevator to the basement of the building feels like it’s taking a dog’s age, and Wilhelm tries to steady his breathing as the elevator slowly makes its way downwards. So many scenarios run through Wilhelm’s mind, each worst than the last; Tim’s actually ran off, didn’t actually have a dinner date to meet, was only just stringing Wilhelm and Interpol along until he could make a break for it.

Or, if Tim didn’t just up and hightail it out of town, then the worst case scenario must have happened: Rhys Somerset figuring out that Tim had turned informant with the agency tasked with bringing his entire empire down. Any and all dossiers that Wilhelm ever read about Somerset made mention of how the young crime boss dealt with disloyalty: _messily_.

When the doors finally open, Wilhelm makes his way down the corridor to the security room, with Pickles trailing fast behind him.

“Hey Wil--” Mordecai says, turning in his chair from the security feed as he hears the door open.

“Mordecai,” Wilhelm replies. He looks around; there’s no other agents in the security room besides Mordecai and Pickles. “You needed me?”

Mordecai smiles ruefully and taps the upper left portion of the security feed screens. Wilhelm makes his way over to get a better look. The feed flashes between four different camera angles but it’s apparent, through the grainy feed, that he’s looking at Tim’s Interpol safe house apartment.

And the entire place has been ransacked.

“Where’s Lawrence?” Wilhelm asks immediately.

Mordecai shrugs, tapping a command on his keyboard to rewind the security footage from a few hours ago. Three large, unidentified men are shown going through all of the apartment, unending tables and furniture, tearing the apartment to pieces looking for...something. Wilhelm’s not sure exactly, but in his gut he knows they’re not looking for something, they’re looking for _someone_. And Wilhelm has a sinking feeling that he knows exactly who.

“How’d they get in?” he asks, angrily. “What’s the point of having a safe house if it isn’t actually safe?”

“Hey man, don’t get in my face about this,” Mordecai replies, just as angrily. “You don’t think I’m  trying to find that out right now?”

Wilhelm glares at both Mordecai and Pickles, before taking a deep breath in and trying to get his blood pressure down.

“We need to find Lawrence,” he says tersely. “If he’s not in that apartment or the Interpol office, he’s likely in danger. His cover’s probably been blown. We need to find him now.”

“I’ll put out an ATL out on the agent’s channel,” Mordecai says, but Wilhelm grabs his shoulder to prevent him from doing so.

“Put one out, but only on these agents’ channels,” Wilhelm says, quickly writing down Athena and Axton’s names on the pad of paper besides Mordecai’s desk. “If there’s a mole in the group, I don’t want to spook anyone. I don’t want anyone else knowing that Lawrence is missing and that we’re aware of it. Clear?”

“Crystal, you’re the boss,” Mordecai agrees and moves to work. Wilhelm starts out of the room but pauses at the doorway.

“Don’t let Hammerlock know either,” he says as an afterthought. “I really don’t need her on my ass right now about this.”

Mordecai chuckles in agreement. “No kidding. We’d both be dead meat.”

Wilhelm forgoes the elevator and runs up the seven flights of stairs to his office. The floor is clear, save for some agents working late, and they don’t look up as WIlhelm rushes back to his office.

The adrenaline drains out of Wilhelm as soon as he enters his office-- there’s Tim, sitting on the couch by the window. The relief that Wilhelm feels _almost_ makes it to his face and he’s about to ask _where the hell has Tim been_ , when a soft cough alerts him to another presence in the room.

Hammerlock.

“Good evening, agent,” she says pleasantly from her spot in Wilhelm’s seat.

“Director,” Wilhelm replies in a bit of a daze. He looks over at Tim, who seems just as confused.

Aurelia Hammerlock, Wilhelm’s boss and Director of Field Operations, is an intimidating woman at the best of times. At the worst of times, meeting with her unexpectedly can be considered a nightmare scenario. Wilhelm braces himself for impact.

“I’d like to hear your explanation,” Hammerlock continues, for all intents and purposes, carrying on like they’re discussing the weather, “of why I ran into Mr. Lawrence here at L'Abeille this evening?”

Wilhelm is at a loss. “I’m not sure what you’re implying--”

Hammerlock cuts him off. “What I’m implying, Agent Sauer, is how unusual it is for someone who is working for this organization, who has _strict_ instructions to be either at their apartment safehouse or inside these offices, was able to sneak off and have dinner at one of the most premiere restaurants in the city?” She folded her hands onto Wilhelm’s desk. “Or were my instructions too hard to understand?”

Wilhelm closes his eyes briefly. Shit.

Tim tries to interject. “I told Wilhelm-- uh, Agent Sauer, that I was leaving the premises earlier. I was meeting my brother for dinner and--”

Hammerlock turns her iron gaze at Tim, and he flinches slightly. “Do you think that’s an adequate explanation, Mr. Lawrence? Because I don’t.”

Hammerlock gets up from Wilhelm’s desk, smoothes out the front of her skirt and sighs.

“I’ve also been informed that the safe house apartments have been compromised.” Wilhelm opens his mouth to ask _how the hell_ she knew about that already but she holds up her hand to silence him. “If you don’t think I have every security feed at my fingertips, you must not think me a very effective or efficient Director, Agent Sauer. Which, unfortunately, is the incorrect assumption. I’ll be making my way to discuss this breach with Agent Calles as soon as I wrap this up.” She motions between Tim and Wilhelm. “As of right now, this entire operation is compromised. All further operations are suspended. And you, Agent Sauer-- your only responsibility now is to keep Mr. Lawrence out of Somerset’s hands, since he seems intent on finding him. Which means you’ll be watching him, twenty-four seven.”

Wilhelm thinks immediately that he’ll be living at the office for the foreseeable future, and wonders if he can convince Athena and Janey to petsit his cats, but then he catches the smile on Hammerlock’s face that tells him otherwise.

“I certainly hope you have a spare bedroom, Agent.”

 _Fuck_ , Wilhelm thinks.

**Tim:  
**

When Tim finally moves from the Interpol appointed safehouse apartment to Wilhelm’s house, he feels like his perception of Wilhelm has been completely pulled out from underneath him.

He’s expecting a cramped one room apartment, messy, dishes everywhere. Window blinds closed twenty-four seven without letting any scrap of light in. Tim knows that’s probably a stereotype, and a cruel one at that, but he’s not above feeling petty at this particular moment.

What Tim’s _not_ expecting, however, is a two story bungalow on the outskirts of town, complete with rose bushes and god damn ivy tendrils crawling up the left side of the house. There’s a well maintained front yard and a spacious backyard, complete with deck, and Tim realizes that his mouth has been hanging slightly opening in a _completely_ undignified manner, but this picturesque scene does not compute in his brain with Wilhelm.

The same Wilhelm that’s leaning against the side of his car looking entirely too smug for his own good, and Tim quickly tries to pull the reigns back on his shock.

Tim’s shock turns to delight the moment he steps through Wilhelm’s doorway, as a gorgeous orange cat trots up to greet him, purring loudly. Tim immediately crouches down to pet his new best friend, not being able to hide his glee as the cat leans into his hand for more scritches.

“Oh my god, you’re so precious,” Tim breathes, smiling widely as the cat perches its front paws on Tim’s knees. “What’s your name, sweetie?”

“That’s Wolf,” Wilhelm answers, shrugging out of his coat. Another loud meow is heard from the top of the stairs, and Tim is probably in heaven now. Wilhelm has _two_ cats. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

“Saint’s the one making all the racket,” Wilhelm says, nodding his head upstairs at the admittedly foreboding black cat staring down at Tim from his perch on the stairs. Saint meows back in reply, causing Wilhelm to roll his eyes but still smile fondly.

"...Seems like kind of a weird name for a cat," Tim says absently, as he pets behind Wolf’s ears, already falling in love.  
"Nah, Saint's ironic because he's a little bastard."

"That's not what I... you know what, never mind."

Tim finally pulls himself away from Wolf, straightening himself up. Without the distraction of petting the cat, Tim can feel the awkwardness and tension pull at him. Wilhelm is clearly uncomfortable having him there. Tim gets the sense that not a lot of people have breached the inner sanctum that is Wilhelm’s personal life.

Tim tries to break to silence. “So... thanks for letting me stay with you.”

Wilhelm shrugs. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

Tim tries not to feel insulted by that. “I could’ve bunked with Athena.”

Wilhelm snorts. “I’m not sure that’d be safe.”

Tim wants to argue the point, say that he’s actually a very charming houseguest, thank you very much, but he also knows that Athena would rather probably light herself on fire than let an almost-convicted thief into her home. Maybe she and Wilhelm drew straws, and Wilhelm lost.

“I’m going to go for a run,” Wilhelm says as he heads up the stairs, presumably to his room to change. He pauses at the top of the stairs and looks at Tim. “Don’t steal anything.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “What could you possibly have that I would want to steal?”

“My cats.”

“...okay, fair point.” Tim laughs, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I promise not to steal your cats.”

“Thank you.”

“Your room is down the hall from mine,” Wilhelm adds, pointing in the opposite direction. “Make yourself at home, I guess.” He disappears around the corner of the upstairs hallway without another word. Tim settles himself on the living room couch, deciding that he’ll take his luggage up after Wilhelm’s finished changing, and spends the next few minutes cooing and petting Wolf, who’s shamelessly curled up on Tim’s lap with his belly exposed.

When Tim's finally left alone in Wilhelm's house, the first thing he does (after petting Wolf for a good fifteen minutes, of course) is take a peek inside Wilhelm's bedroom. He’s not sure what exactly possesses him to do so, besides the obvious: he wants to know what, if anything, Wilhelm’s hiding.

Anything that he can use in his arsenal is worth taking a snoop around, he tells himself as he eases the bedroom door open.

The bedroom is almost deceptively dull, which makes Tim almost certain that there has to be something hidden in a drawer or the closet. At first glance, there’s just a king-sized bed, alarm clock on a small table next to the bed, a couple cat toys strewn about the floor, and then the closet and drawers. Tim almost stops himself from going in, half-heartedly trying to tell himself that this is a invasion of privacy, and Wilhelm’s opened his home up to Tim, however begrudgingly.

That works for about five seconds, because who would Tim be if he didn’t take a peek around? That’s what he does. That’s literally his job.

Opening the closet, Tim flicks on the light switch inside the relatively decent-sized space and is almost disappointed to see nothing weird out of the ordinary. Just Wilhelm-sized clothes hung up neatly on hangers, boots and sneakers arranged on a smaller shelf beneath the clothing. He’s about to turn off the light and check something else, when something on the floor catches his eye. Wedged beneath one of Wilhelm’s mammoth black boots is a slip of paper. Tim gently eases it out from under the sole, unfolds it and reads:

_It’s not very nice to snoop, Tim._

Tim lets out a surprised burst of laughter. _What an asshole,_ he thinks to himself, still chuckling. _How dare he anticipate my moves like this._

Feeling slightly embarrassed that he’s been called out so blatantly, Tim almost decides to forgo the rest of the recon mission in Wilhelm’s room. But maybe that’s what Wilhelm wants him to do. Tim’s not about to have Wilhelm come out the winner in this.

Tim opens the drawer on the bedside table, not sure what he’s expecting to find, but all that’s rattling around in the drawer is a small notebook, a pencil, a medium sized bottle of lube and... four condoms.

Tim clears his throat. _Well_. Okay. Notebook first, then he’ll process the fact that there’s condoms and that apparently Wilhelm isn’t actually a robot in disguise.

He gently opens the notebook, the first few pages are blank and he’s about the close the notebook, when the last page he flips open has Wilhelm’s telltale scrawl on it:

_You’re not very good at listening, are you?_

_Shit,_ Tim thinks to himself. Wilhelm definitely anticipated the downsides to rooming with a known thief. Almost like he knows how to do his job, or something. Tim sighs and puts the notebook back and stares at the foil packing of the condoms bedside it. If Wilhelm went to all this trouble to hide any of his personal items from Tim, why wouldn’t he hide his condoms? Tim scratches the back of his neck as he contemplates this, Obviously, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about-- and you know, it’s good he’s being safe? Tim shakes his head as if that will make these thoughts disappear. Wilhelm always seemed like that type of man that put the job before anything, and he never mentioned having a boyfriend or a girlfriend in Tim’s hearing. Not that he ever would, Tim thinks ruefully; Wilhelm is _very_ good at shutting personal conversations down in a second.

A loud meow interrupts Tim’s thoughts and he looks up at the doorway where Saint is sitting, his yellow eyes staring unblinkingly at Tim.

[ ](http://tinypic.com?ref=246ruit)

“Hi sweetie,” Tim gushes, moving towards Saint. He’s unsure if Saint is as affectionate as Wolf, so he tentatively stretches his hand down for Saint for sniff before he attempts to pet him. Saint gives his hand a cursory sniff and then tilts his head upwards.

If Tim didn’t know better, he almost feels like this cat is trying to get him out of the bedroom. Like he’s on watch.

“Alright, alright, I’m going,” he says, straightening up and following Saint out of the bedroom. Once Tim’s back in the hallway, Saint dodges between his legs back in Wilhelm’s room and sits down in the doorway, like some sort of guard cat. He blinks slowly at Tim, and turns his attention to licking his paw, and Tim decides that it’s probably a good idea for him to go to the guest room where he’ll be staying for the time being.

~

Tim hears the front door of the house open an hour later, which must mean that Wilhelm has returned from his run. There’s heavy footsteps climbing the stairs, pausing momentarily at Tim’s closed door, and then onward to the bathroom. The pipes above the room groan into action and the faint sound of running water from the shower fills the silence of the house.

Tim’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay in the guest room the entire time he’s stuck at Wilhelm’s, or if he’s allowed to sit in the living room? The kitchen? The backyard? Does Wilhelm want to act like Tim’s not even there? Are they supposed to eat dinner together?

He rubs his temples wearily. He almost wishes he was back in the Interpol safehouse apartment, dangers to his person be damned, just so he didn’t feel like he has to walk on eggshells if he moves around the house. He knows that Wilhelm doesn’t want him there, why would he? Tim knows he’s been nothing but a pain in his ass, he’s not blind to the annoyance that crosses Wilhelm’s face whenever Tim’s around.

A soft knocking noise on the door pulls Tim out of his thoughts, and he gets up from his bed to open the door.

He is in no way prepared for what’s on the other side of the door.

Wilhelm’s wet. Which shouldn’t be surprising to Tim, since he just got out of the shower, but wow. He is wet. And big. Very muscled. And scars. And---

 _Pull yourself together_ , Tim thinks to himself in a panic. This is the second time Tim has seen Wilhelm in barely any clothes and his reaction is almost comical to himself, if not downright embarrassing.

“Just wanted to let you know that the shower’s free, if you need it,” Wilhelm says, like he’s not standing there with what looks like a hand towel straining to hang onto his hips.

“Fzght,” is what comes out of Tim’s mouth. Wilhelm raises his eyebrows but otherwise doesn’t comment on Tim’s obvious tongue-tied-ness.

Tim coughs, trying to recover. “I mean, thanks. I’ll, uh-- I’ll shower later.”

Wilhelm nods and heads down the hallway to his bedroom, but not before Tim’s gaze follows him, catching a glimpse of one well-toned butt cheek peeking out from underneath the towel. Tim quickly shuts the bedroom door and leans against it, one hand resting lightly against his cheek, idly marveling at the warmth he feels there.

Maybe he should have a _cold_ shower.

**Wilhelm:**

It’s strange how having Tim in his house doesn’t disrupt Wilhelm’s everyday life as much as he thought it would. He supposes that yes, there are definite adjustments to having another person around, but it’s almost alarming to him how well Tim seems to fit into the space Wilhelm’s carved out for himself outside of work.

Wilhelm doesn’t want to think about that.

Regardless, it’s a thought that hangs around in the back of his mind whenever he sees Tim in the living room with Wolf on his lap, or in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, or even just sitting out in Wilhelm’s garden with a book. Wilhelm catches himself staring at Tim more often than he thinks is appropriate, but if Tim notices, he has the grace not to draw attention to it.

When Athena calls one evening and  asks him about how the temporary living arrangements are holding out, his chest constricts in an almost painful way at the word _temporary_ and he finds he can't answer. He doesn’t know how to how to tell Athena and opts not to, and ends the call abruptly.

Honestly, Wilhelm doesn’t like how the word _temporary_ makes him feel like the rug is being pulled out from underneath him. But that’s what this is, in the end. Once this assignment has been wrapped up and Wilhelm is moved to a different one, odds are he and Tim aren’t going to be working together. Living together.

Wilhelm shouldn’t fool himself to thinking that this isn’t anything more than a work assignment for Tim; a literal Get Out of Jail Free card.

Wilhelm doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this. He sighs, running a hand through his hair, rubbing his scalp absentmindedly. _It doesn’t matter_ , he tells himself. _It doesn’t matter_.

He’ll believe it eventually.

**Tim:  
**

If anyone had asked Tim at the beginning of this mess whether or not living with Wilhelm was going to be a nightmare or not, he would have told them point blank, that it would have been his definition of nightmare.

But that was a few weeks ago, when he didn’t know Wilhelm. When Wilhelm was just a suit to him, someone hell bent on making Tim’s life miserable-- and yeah, if you wanted to get technical, Tim’s entire career was about breaking the law, but Tim didn’t see why Wilhelm had to be such a goddamn hard-ass about it.

Things are different now. Of course they’d be different. They’re not in an office environment for starters. Wilhelm may still be an agent, but he’s not really out of in the field, and Wilhelm’s joked over the course of the week that he needed a vacation anyways.

Tim’s always lived alone in his adult years. His brother lives on the other side of the world, and only visits when he’s in town on business and they’ve never been very close anyways. Tim’s had relationships - serious ones, too - but never to the point of having someone living with him. He was sure he was going to chafe under the living arrangements with Wilhelm, sure it was going to drive him crazy.

But really the opposite had happened. Wilhelm gave Tim space, didn’t crowd him. Wilhelm seemed to be a solitary person himself, and didn’t try to impose himself on Tim, even though Tim was imposing on Wilhelm’s personal space by just being there.

After a few weeks, Wilhelm didn’t seem to enforce the rules laid down by Hammerlock as stringently anymore. He let Tim take his car into town to get groceries, or go for long walks by himself. He always made Tim carry a small pistol with him, just in case, but there was never an instance where Tim needed it.

Tim’s at the grocery store now, picking up a couple things for dinner. His stomach flutters a bit, thinking about painfully _domestic_ this feels, even after a few weeks. And how much he likes it, enjoys the feeling of being around someone; sharing space, meals and conversation when before he'd have considered domesticity worse than death.

Tim’s feelings about Wilhelm are the definition of complicated. And he’s certain that Wilhelm must feel some way about him too. He catches Wilhelm looking at him, a conflicted expression etched on his face. Tim wants to tell him he can do more than just look, that Tim would, in fact, welcome it. But the words fail him. And for someone who prides himself on charm, charm fails him when he needs it the most when it comes to Wilhelm.

Driving back to Wilhelm’s house, Tim hums along with the songs on the radio, familiar enough with the drive back to Wilhelm’s house that he almost feels like he’s on autopilot. The trip back takes almost no time at all, and as Tim gathers up the bags of groceries in his arms, he idly thinks about how nice the rosebushes are coming in by the front door, and smiles to himself, never going to get over the fact that Wilhelm gardens in his spare time.

Tim is distracted by thoughts of what he’ll make for dinner tonight that he doesn’t notice anything’s amiss at first but as soon as Tim opens the front door, he knows. Something is terribly wrong.

His first clue is the loud yowling coming from the front closet. Tim drops the bag of groceries and rushes to open the door, both Wolf and Saint tumbling over themselves to get out. Wolf immediately launches himself into Tim’s arms, whereas Saint runs up the stairs. Holding onto Wolf tightly, Tim surveys the front hall and living room.

Rhys was _definitely_ here.

There’s shattered glass and the coffee table in the living room is upended on the floor. Books have been thrown from the shelves, and Tim’s stomach tightens at the dark red streaks smeared across the hardwood floors and staining the white walls.

 _Rhys has Wilhelm,_ Tim thinks to himself. _Rhys knew this entire time._ _He knew, he knows, he_ knows _._

Tim carefully walks up the stairs with Wolf and put him on Wilhelm’s bed with Saint, closing the bedroom door behind him. He doesn’t want the two of them hurting themselves on the debris downstairs, and he doesn’t have time to pick everything off of the floor. He needs to call Athena.

Tim picks up the phone in the front hall and starts dialing Athena’s number when his fingers pause. There’s writing on the pad next to the phone. Tim quietly hangs up the phone and rips the piece of paper off.

_Tim,_

_61, rue de la Bongarde 92230 Gennevilliers-Paris._

_Can’t wait to catch up._

_\- R_

~

 

When Tim sees Rhys standing at the front of the warehouse, his stomach sinks in dread. Rhys’ lanky form is - as always - immaculately dressed in dark slacks and a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He's leaning against the outside doors, like he’s waiting for a friend.

Tim supposes that was true, a long time ago.

Rhys looks up from his phone as as Tim walks closer, a small smile playing around his lips. He smoothes one hand down the front of his shirt, flattening out the non-existent wrinkles and pockets his phone in a quick motion.

“Tim.” Rhys calls him over; it sounds friendly, but there’s definitely an edge to it. Tim’s spent enough time with Rhys to know that he’s treading on thin ice right now.

“Hi Rhys,” Tim replies, trying to keep his voice casual. “I got your message.”

Rhys smiles, moving forward, his hands reaching out to button up Tim’s jacket. The street light catches on the yellow of Rhys’ mechanical hand, and that’s when Tim notices the streaks of blood. When Rhys’ hands still on the top button of Tim’s coat, his eyes flick towards Tim’s and his grin widens.

“You’ve been annoyingly hard to get a hold off, you know that?” Rhys asks. He doesn’t wait for Tim to answer. “Should I be concerned?”

Tim doesn’t know how to answer. All he can concentrate on is the red contrasting on yellow, and the sinking feeling that he knows whose blood it is.

“You better come on inside,” Rhys says, “I have a guest, and it’s pretty rude to keep him waiting like this.”

“Rhys?” Tim asks, his heart sinking. “What did you--”

“You’ll see,” is all Rhys says, before lightly pushing Tim towards the doors. “After you.”

Tim tries to brace himself for what's awaiting inside the warehouse. He knows, from years of experience working for Rhys, that Rhys isn't inherently violent. He prefers his conflicts to be resolved with words and compromises instead of blood-- but when the first two don't work, he doesn't hesitate to bring in the third. And the few times Rhys has brought down his fury with violence... well, it’s never been pretty. There's a reason why he's one of the youngest crime bosses in the world.

Rhys’ hand is pressed lightly against Tim's back, guiding him down the warehouse hallway towards the door at the end. He can see a sliver of light underneath the door.

For all his knowledge and familiarity of Rhys, professional and personal, Tim realizes, as one of Rhys' goons opens the door to let them in, he really, really doesn't _know_ Rhys. If he did, he would have foreseen this.

Tim knows enough not to show the shock on his face when he sees Wilhelm kneeling on the floor, hands tied behind his back, his face a landscape of cuts and bruises. Wilhelm lifts his head up at the sound of the door opening but if he's surprised to see Tim, his face gives nothing away. He doesn't break eye contact with Tim.

Tim has never felt so helpless in his life.

“Sorry to have started the party without you, Tim.” Rhys' voice jolts Tim back into the moment. “Would you believe it took ten of my guys to bring this dickhead down? If I wasn't so pissed about the broken bones he inflicted, I'd be offering him a job.” Rhys smiles and gestures between Wilhelm and Tim. “But I wouldn't want to deprive you from finishing this.”

“Finishing... what, exactly?” Tim asks, confused.

Rhys turns to Tim and puts his hands on Tim's shoulders, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. It's oddly sinister, out of place on Rhys' handsome features.

“You think I'd leave my best man hanging? Nabbed by Interpol and then forced under house arrest with this ape? You don't think I'd come and get you out of that?” Rhys' hands squeeze Tim's shoulders, almost painfully. “I'm a little hurt at the implication, Tim.”

Tim can feel Wilhelm's eyes on him. He doesn't dare look away from Rhys, though.

“Rhys,” Tim replies, his voice shaking slightly. “It,” he swallows, “it’s not quite... like that.”

Rhys closes his eyes, like Tim's disappointed him.

“I really didn’t want to believe that you partnered up Interpol, Tim.” Rhys’ voice turns dark. “I didn’t want to think that you’d be that fucking stupid.”

“Rhys--”

“No.” Tim didn’t see it before, but suddenly Rhys has a handgun out and he's pointing it directly at Tim. “No. I’m pretty sure you’re done talking right now.” He gestures at Wilhelm. “You need to make a decision. Either you clean up this fucking mess, or I’ll clean it up for you.”

Tim chances a glance at Wilhelm, and there’s no expression on his face, save for weary resignation.

“Give me the gun,” Tim says after a few moments, and Rhys’ face breaks out into a satisfied grin. He hands Tim the gun, grip up, and Tim takes it with shaking hands. The gun feels heavier than it looks, and Rhys must see the apprehension on his face because he moves behind Tim and puts his hands gently on Tim’s shoulders.

“I forgot you’ve never actually killed anyone,” Rhys says, his voice low in Tim’s ear, his breath making the hairs on Tim’s neck stand at attention. “Don’t worry. I’ll guide you through it.”

Rhys guides Tim’s arms up so that the gun is pointing dead straight at Wilhelm’s forehead. Wilhelm still doesn’t flinch, doesn’t beg for his life. He doesn’t move. He just stares past the barrel of the gun, his eyes boring into Tim’s.

Tim can feel the sweat gathering at his temples. His hands grip the barrel a little tighter, as his arms sink lower just barely. Rhys has been talking to him in a low voice, but Tim only catches the last part.

“I knew you’d come around in the end. I knew you’d come back,” and Rhys squeezes Tim’s shoulders in what Tim assumes is supposed to be a comforting manner.

Tim takes a deep breath inwards, tries to steady his hands, closes his eyes and exhales. He raises the gun so it’s once again aiming dead centre at Wilhelm’s forehead.

Wilhelm still hasn’t looked away from Tim. He doesn’t looks scared, he just looks tired. Resigned. That look pulls hard at Tim’s heart, and he swallows.

Quicker than anyone could blink, Tim slams his head back into Rhys’ forehead, knocking Rhys backwards onto the floor. Rhys stumbles, holding the side of his head in pain and in shock, but before he can utter another word or react, Tim cracks the side of the revolver against Rhys’ temple, and Rhys crumples onto the floor. He’s out like a light.

Tim’s breathing is ragged, his heart hammering with adrenaline as he stares at the unmoving body of Rhys on the ground. There's no sound save for the blood pounding in his ears.

“Tim?” Wilhelm’s voice breaks the silence, gruff and soft at the same time. “You okay?”

Tim shakes his head in disbelief as he searches Rhys’ pockets for the keys to unlock Wilhelm’s restraints. He fumbles a bit, his hands shaking and when he does finally find Rhys’ keys in his back pocket, Tim drops them onto the concrete floor. He swears under his breath and hurriedly shoves them into his own pocket, trying to steady the shake in his hands and the pounding in the back of his head. Pausing briefly to do a quick cursory check that Rhys is only unconscious, not dead, puts Tim’s mind at ease for the moment; there’s a pulse and shallow breathing.  Contrary to what Rhys had planned earlier, Tim didn’t want to start killing anyone any time soon, and that included Rhys.

“I’m fine,” Tim says, finally remembering to answer Wilhelm, his voice quavering slightly. “I’m _fine_. Why are you asking me if I’m okay? You look like you went ten rounds with a brick wall.” Tim moves behind Wilhelm and unlocks his restraints. Wilhelm slumps forward, his hands catching himself on the floor. Tim puts his hand on Wilhelms shoulder, unthinking, and Wilhelm covers Tim’s hand with one of his own and squeezes reassuringly.

Wilhelm’s hand is warm and comforting, and in any other situation Tim would be yelling _“FINALLY”_ to the high heavens, but this is not the time. Or the place. They need to get out of here fast, before Rhys wakes up.

“Come on, this way,” Tim says, dragging Wilhelm out of the room. There’s none of Rhys’ goons nearby, thankfully, and Tim puts Wilhelm's arm around his shoulder to help him move quicker.

“Tim, I’m fine,” Wilhelm says, but Tim’s not inclined to believe him, since his feet are dragging slightly and his shirt seems to get darker by the moment, blood seeping slowly through the fabric.

“Would you just hurry up before you bleed out on the concrete, please?” Tim says, trying to keep his voice even and calm.

“Wait,” Wilhelm says, “Stop.”

“What? What is it? Are you okay--?” Tim’s questions are cut off when Wilhelm, without comment or fanfare, tilts Tim’s chin up towards him and kisses him fiercely.

Tim’s world completely rearranges on itself. His hands tighten on Wilhelm’s biceps and they crash together against the wall. In the back of Tim’s mind, he’s dimly aware that this is, in fact, a bad idea. A terrible idea. Not the kissing part, that part is a _great_ idea. But Wilhelm is hurt, he’s bleeding, he’s probably got a network of internal injuries, but all that Tim can concentrate on is this kiss and how _mad_ he is that it took this long to happen.

Tim finally pulls back, his head hitting the concrete wall. Wilhelm rests his forehead against Tim’s, breathing heavily.

“Sorry,” Wilhelm says, his eyes screwed shut. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

“What?” Tim asks, confused.

“Bad timing,” Wilhelm replies. His breathing is becoming more laboured. “Should have done that sooner. Sorry.”

Tim maneuvers Wilhelm back against him, and starts leading the both of them towards the exit of the warehouse.

“We can talk about this later,” Tim says. “But yes, you _should_ have done that earlier.”

Wilhelm chuckles weakly and groans in pain as Tim shoulders open the warehouse door. Wilhelm half-collapses onto his car and Tim fumbles in Wilhelm’s pocket for the car keys.

“We have to take you to the hospital,” Tim says, as he hurriedly unlocks the car doors, gently guiding Wilhelm to the passenger side.

“M’fine,” Wilhelm mumbles as he’s lowered into the passenger seat of his car.

“You are not fine!” Tim’s voice rises in pitch as the unsettling feeling of panic and dread rises in his stomach. Wilhelm seems to be floating in and out of consciousness, and Tim doesn’t know what to do, he needs to keep Wilhelm awake long enough until they get to the hospital. Without much thought, and because he saw it on TV once, Tim smacks Wilhelm across the face. It seems to do the trick as Wilhelm blearily opens his eyes.

“I think I’ve gotten beat up enough today, don’t you?” he says wearily, trying to crack a smile, but he grimaces in pain. Tim can still taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue.

“Stay awake,” Tim says sternly, settling himself behind the wheel.

“I’m awake,” Wilhelm assures him before his head lolls back against the car seat and it’s suddenly, horribly apparent that Wilhelm is very not fine.

**Wilhelm:**

Wilhelm can dimly hear Tim’s panicked voice in the darkness, but his eyes feel so heavy and everything hurts so much. It just seems like the better outcome for everything is to just sink deeper into the darkness. Maybe he should stop struggling.

Tim’s voice fades completely. Everything fades.

**Tim:**

Wilhelm’s been in a coma for a week now. Most of his injuries have healed, according to the doctors, but he’s still unconscious. Athena told him that the doctors are running every sort of test but they’re not sure why he’s not waking up.

Tim doesn’t know what to do.

He visits the hospital every day. He sits in Wilhelm’s room for as long as the visiting hours allow him, and then he drives Wilhelm’s car back to his house and feeds Wolf and Saint. Both cats seem to be aware that Willhelm’s not around and it’s causing both of them to stick to Tim like glue. Tim doesn’t mind; he curls up on Wilhelm’s bed, both cats bookended by his side and tries to sleep.

He doesn’t sleep very well. Wilhelm’s pillows and bedsheets smell too much like him, like the motorcycle oil he uses when he’s tinkering in his garage mixed with his cologne and fabric softener. Tim can’t handle it, but he also can’t handle going back to the guest room. Doing that feels like admitting defeat somehow. Defeat of _what,_ exactly, Tim doesn’t know.

When he arrives at the hospital at eight the next morning, he spies Athena in the waiting room. He takes a seat next to her, and wordlessly she hands him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he says gratefully, accepting the cup.

“No problem,” she says, taking a sip of her own coffee. “Figured you’d be here early.”

“Are you going in to see him too?” Tim asks, feeling slightly awkward under Athena’s stare. Like she knows exactly what’s going through his mind when he thinks of Wilhelm.

“We can’t go in yet,” she replies. “He’s in the middle of another test.” At Tim’s alarmed expression, she raises her hand to calm him. “It’s fine. Wilhelm woke up this morning, they’re just making sure everything working properly, you know.”

“He’s... awake?” Tim repeats.

“Mhmm.” Athena takes another sip of her coffee. “We can see him in an hour, so just sit tight.”

An hour feels like an eternity.

Athena goes into Wilhelm’s private room first. She closes the door behind her but Tim can hear soft voices talking through the door. It takes all of his willpower not to press his ear against the door to understand what’s being said, but most importantly, what Wilhelm’s saying.

The door opening takes Tim by surprise, and he tries to recover by smoothly leaning against the hospital wall, but Athena’s arching eyebrow means he hasn’t fooled her, not by a long shot. He takes a deep breath and goes into the room, closing the door behind him.

Wilhelm is sitting up, and despite the impressive display of machinery and seemingly endless amount of tubes, his facial wounds have mostly healed, save for a few scars. He smiles slightly at Tim, and Tim doesn’t know why his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies, but it is and his hands are shaking and he doesn’t know what to do with them.

“Hey,” Wilhelm says, voice rough from disuse.

“Hi,” Tim replies, finally shoving his hands into his pockets.

There’s a long stretch of silence between them. Tim doesn’t know how to break it, doesn’t know how to bring up the kiss, how it was the best kiss of his life and how he wants more kisses like that. He doesn’t know how to word these thoughts without potentially throwing Wilhelm into another coma with the intensity of his feelings.

“You look like you’re gonna throw up.” Wilhelm finally breaks the silence, smiling. “I guess I probably look pretty rough, huh?”

Tim lets out a shaky laugh. “What? Oh, no! No it’s not you. You look fine! Well, I mean, fine as you can look? I mean--” He takes a deep breath, trying to rein it in. “You look good. I’m glad... I’m glad you’re awake.”

“Me too,” Wilhelm agrees, settling against his pillows. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

“You’re welcome.” It feels weird saying that, considering the reason why Wilhelm was in that position in the first place. “I’m sorry that, uh, that it happened that way.”

“Not your fault,” Wilhelm says. “You going to sit down or what? You’re making me nervous.”

“Me, make you nervous?” Tim scoffs, but sits down on the chair beside Wilhelm’s bed. “That’ll be the day.”

“I’m looking after Wolf and Saint,” Tim says, suddenly. “So don’t... you know, don’t stress out about them.”

Wilhelm smiles softly and sighs. “Thanks. I was worried about them.”

Tim’s about to say something else when Wilhelm’s hand, large and impossibly warm, covers Tim’s own hand, and squeezes lightly.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” Wilhelm says, his thumb softly rubbing against Tim’s knuckles. Tim’s breath catches slightly at the touch but he brings his other hand atop of Wilhelm’s and returns the squeeze.

“Me too,” Tim says quietly.

“I really want to kiss you again,” Wilhelm says casually, like he’s discussing the weather. “But these damn tubes are all over the place and I’m sure if I move an inch, it’ll set off an alarm and honestly, I don’t really want an audience right now.”

Tim’s cheeks warm at Wilhelm’s statement but he leans over towards Wilhelm, brushing his thumb against Wilhelm’s stubbled cheek, and smiles.

“Well, then,” he says, his voice portraying a smoothness he _definitely_ doesn’t feel, “let me take care of that.”

And he presses his lips to Wilhelm’s.

Their kiss before was something else, full of urgency and adrenaline, the taste of blood and sweat mingling between the both of them. This kiss now, though, is on an entirely different plane of existence. Tim’s sure his breath tastes of stale coffee and Wilhelm has a medicinal taste to him, but it’s probably the best kiss Tim has ever had, hands down.

Wilhelm must feel the same because his hands are pulling insistently on Tim’s jacket lapels, so much so that Tim breaks free for a moment, raises his eyebrow playfully, and - _carefully_ \- climbs up onto Wilhelm’s bed, making sure not to jostle the tubes and machinery. He plants himself snugly onto Wilhelm’s lap.

“Better?” he asks, grinning.

“Much,” Wilhelm replies before pulling Tim down for another kiss.

Tim’s not sure how long they stay like that, but he’s pretty sure that they gave the poor nurse a heart attack when she came in to check on Wilhelm. Tim’s more than a little embarrassed but he doesn’t pay it too much mind, not when Wilhelm whispers in his ear that they’ll continue this later, when Wilhelm finally gets home

Tim’s more than okay with that.

**Epilogue:**

It’s a couple more days before Wilhelm’s released from the hospital, days that feel like years to Tim. He waits impatiently in Wilhelm’s living room, pacing back and forth, only stopping to peer out of the window in case Athena’s truck is coming down the road. It’s only when he’s turned away to scoop Wolf up in his arms does he finally hear the telltale sounds of Athena’s truck rumbling to a stop outside of the house.

Tim’s breath catches in his throat. His stomach feels like it’s tying and untying itself into knots in anticipation. He hugs Wolf a little closer to his chest, trying to soothe his nerves to the sound of Wolf’s loud purring. The quiet creak of the front door opening signals that Wilhelm has finally arrived, and Wolf scrambles to get out of Tim’s arms and races towards the front hall, Saint trailing after him at a much more restrained pace.

“Hey, fellas,” Tim can hear Wilhelm’s soft greeting. “How’re my babies doing? Wanna say hi to Auntie Athena?”

“I have begged you not to call me that,” Athena replies dryly.

Tim steels himself with a deep breath and then walks into the hallway. He can feel himself grin at the sight of Wilhelm, looking stronger and significantly less battered than before, save for a few new facial scars. He’s leaning lightly on a cane and has Wolf wrapped around his shoulders, while Athena (for all her protests) is holding Saint in her arms, cooing softly at him. Tim has never seen Saint so affectionate to anyone outside of Wilhelm before.

To be fair, the only other person around is Tim, but he chooses not to think about that.

Wilhelm finally looks over at Tim, smiling slowly. Tim feels that smile deep into his bones and can feel his cheeks warming without his permission.

“Hey, Tim,” Wilhelm says. “Thanks for looking after my brats.”

Tim chuckles nervously. “Oh, no problem. A-any time!”

Athena takes one look between the both of them grinning at the other, shares an unimpressed look with Saint, and Tim’s positive he overhears her mutter, “Jesus Christ, you two chuckleheads,” but he can’t be sure. She puts Saint down, and affectionately gives Wilhelm a hug.

“Call if you need anything, okay?” she says softly and Wilhelm nods, returning her hug. She nods goodbye to Tim, and then leaves through the front door.

“Do you need any help?” Tim asks, not knowing what to do with his hands before finally shoving them back into his pockets.

“Nah, I got it, thanks,” Wilhelm replies, setting Wolf down on the ground. Wolf meows his displeasure at the loss of snuggles, but makes his way back into the living room.

Which means Wilhelm and Tim are alone in the hallway.

Tim still doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Wanna help me upstairs?” Wilhelm asks. He gestures at the cane. “This makes going up the stairs kind of a pain in the ass.”

Tim’s so grateful to do anything but stand in the hallway awkwardly, he almost trips over his own feet. He rights himself immediately, putting Wilhelm’s arm around his shoulder. He slowly maneuvers Wilhelm up the flight of stairs, trying not to think about how warm and solid Wilhelm feels against his side.

They finally make it to the bedroom and Tim gently lowers Wilhelm to the edge of his bed and props his cane against the dresser.

“I should probably let you get some rest,” Tim says, nervously smoothing back his hair. “Just, um, holler if you need anything? I’ll just be downstairs with--”

Tim’s sentence is cut off when Wilhelm reaches up to cup Tim’s face with his hand, and brings him down for a long kiss. When they break apart, both of them are breathing a little heavy.

“I don’t need to rest,” Wilhelm says teasingly, his hands coming to rest on Tim’s backside. “I need you to finish what you started in my hospital bed.”

Tim’s face flushes with embarrassment and arousal at the memory. Wilhelm tugs Tim into his lap and they both miscalculate the angle because they fall backwards with a mighty thump. Wilhelm lets out a short bark of laughter and Tim giggles, burying his face into Wilhelm’s shoulder.

“Wow, that was smooth,” Wilhelm deadpans. “You literally knocked me off my feet.”

“Me?” Tim replies, still giggling. “You’re the one who pulled me over, mister.”

“Oh sure, blame the guy with the injuries. Real sensitive, Tim,” Wilhelm snarks before pulling Tim on top of him. His hands find Tim’s backside and he squeezes, and Tim _swears_ he is not responsible for the noises coming out of his mouth. He can feel Wilhelm’s grin on his neck as he grinds Tim into him, slowly rutting against each other. Tim lets out another moan as he feels Wilhelm’s hardness against his, his hips moving faster against Wilhelm’s trying to get more friction.

Cooler heads than Tim’s prevail however, and before the fun is over before it can start, Wilhelm nudges Tim towards the dresser drawer. He doesn’t have to say anything, he knows Tim’s been in that drawer, knows what’s inside. Tim reluctantly removes himself from Wilhelm and opens the drawer, reaching inside for the lube and condoms. He tears one of the condoms off and tosses it to Wilhelm, who is already pulling his shirt overtop of his head. Tim quickly follows suit and helps Wilhelm get his own pants off, pausing slightly at the slight noticeable bruises and scars on Wilhelm’s right leg. He presses a soft kiss to the inside of Wilhelm’s knee and Wilhelm lets out a shaky gasp.

Wilhelm’s rolling the condom onto himself, and even from Tim’s vantage point at the foot of the bed, Wilhelm is big. Tim wants that dick inside of him like yesterday, but he also knows he needs prep, but he also doesn’t want Wilhelm to have to get up and put pressure on his injured knee.

As if Wilhelm can read the thoughts flying across his face, he pats his lap with his left hand, the bottle of lube in his right, and says in a low, husky voice, “Come over here and turn around for me.”

Tim doesn’t want to think about how fast he obeys, facing away from Wilhelm as he settles into his lap, minding his hands so that they don’t aggravate his injuries. He can feel Wilhelms warm hands ghost over his hips and ass, and Tim lets out a low whine. He’s impatient and he knows it but he’s wanted this for a long time and now that it’s happening, it’s happening far too slowly for his liking.

Wilhelm’s hands grip Tim’s hips a little tighter and jerks Tim backwards towards Wilhelm’s face. Tim’s not entirely sure what Wilhelm has in mind until he feels Wilhelm’s breath on his ass and Tim’s brain short circuits.

Without preamble, Tim feels Wilhelm’s hand spread his cheeks out, and it feels-- _obscene,_ almost, to be exposed this way, but Tim relishes the feeling, rides it out as the first sensation of Wilhelm’s mouth touches his skin.

“O-oh! Holy _shit,”_ Tim breathes as Wilhelm slowly works him open with his mouth, his tongue.

Tim’s no virgin, he’s been around the block a couple times, but he’s never had _this,_ this slow, agonizing sensation of Wilhelm tasting him, eating him out. Tim’s already very close to the edge already, but he almost comes right there when he hears the sound of lube being smeared onto Wilhelm’s fingers. Tim shifts himself a bit further down Wilhelm’s chest and lifts his ass slightly.

Wilhelm whistles in appreciation. “That is one great ass.”

Tim lets out a shaky laugh, which melts into another moan as Wilhelm’s slick finger slowly circles his hole before gently pressing in. He repeats this motion a few more times and soon Tim’s rocking back on three fingers, a delicious ache already pooling in his belly.

“Come on, Wil,” Tim gasps as Wilhelm’s fingers find his prostate, rubbing slowly. “Come on, fuck me already.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” is Wilhelm’s response, and he hands Tim the bottle of lube and Tim adds a frankly obscene amount of lube to Wilhelm’s dick. Wilhelm’s hips buck up slightly at Tim’s touch, and Tim adds a couple more pumps for good measure before he feels a soft swat on his ass.

“Who’s the impatient one now, hmmm?” Tim teases over his shoulder as he positions himself over Wilhelm’s cock. He doesn’t get an answer from Wilhelm other than his hands tightening on Tim’s hips as Tim lowers himself down.

Tim needs a second to adjust once Wilhelm is fully inside of him, the girth and drag of his cock filling him up so completely it almost takes his breath away.

“Jesus Christ, Tim,” Wilhelm groans behind him as Tim finally begins to move. Bracing himself on Wilhelm’s thighs, Tim moves faster, trying to find that sweet angle inside of him. He wanted to take this slow at first, but it feels too good, it feels like his entire body is on fire in the best possible way. The feel of Wilhelm’s cock and the way his hips move against Tim and his thighs flexing as he thrusts up is not helping him want to take it slow. He wants _more,_ as much as Wilhelm can give him, maybe even more.

Wilhelm pulls Tim’s hips back a fraction and it feels like an angels’ chorus should be singing behind Tim at that very moment because that slight adjustment is all it took for Wilhelm’s cock to drag itself over Tim’s prostate over and over again.

Tim’s hardly coherent at this point, repeating Wilhelm’s name over and over in fits and starts as his movements become more erratic. His own cock hasn’t even been touched yet, but it’s leaking precum steadily and Tim knows if this goes on a little longer, he could possibly come without being touched at all.

“Come on, Tim,” Wilhelm grunts, thrusting up hard into Tim, hitting that sweet spot with more urgency. “Come on baby, come for me.”

Tim makes a strangled, completely undignified noise; the combination of Wilhelm’s dick, gruff voice and hard thrusts are all he needs before he’s spilling onto Wilhelm’s legs, gasping and panting as he feels Wilhelm thrust into him a few more times before his own orgasm catches up with him.

They’re both completely out of breath. Tim doesn’t know about Wilhelm, but his thighs hurt, and he slowly untangles himself from Wilhelm to collapse beside him, a tired and sweaty grin on his face.

“That was fun,” he says, planting a kiss on Wilhelm’s shoulder. Wilhelm lets out a soft chuckle.

“Understatement of the year,” Wilhelm replies, collecting Tim in his arms. “Should’ve done _that_ much sooner.”

“Agreed,” Tim says, running his hands absentmindedly up and down Wilhelm’s chest hair. Wilhelm hums contently and they lie together in silence.

Tim can feel himself dozing off a bit but is jostled out of the post-sex haze by Wilhelm.

“Help me to the shower?” Wilhelm asks. Tim nods, slowly peeling himself up and helping Wilhelm to his feet. A shower is probably a great idea before they fall asleep.

“Are you trying to seduce me in the shower, Mister Sauer?” Tim teases as they make their way to the bathroom.

Wilhelm raises an eyebrow. “I dunno, would it work?”

“Hmmm, I’m not sure. Let’s see how I feel once I’m in there.”

Wilhelm laughs and warmth blooms inside Tim’s chest. It’s hopeless, he thinks to himself. He’s in too deep now.

He doesn’t know what the future holds for him and Wilhelm. He can only hope that since they found each other in such strange circumstances, they’ll stay together no matter what.

Timothy Lawrence never saw himself in a situation like this. But he’s happy that this is where he wound up.

He looks forward, not back anymore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! :)


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